Lures for the Eyes
Sometimes when there is a storm
that is not yet a storm, rather just
an idea that the tops
of the trees dreamed,
I find myself watching the holes
in the leaves.
-
Sometimes when there
is a storm that has always been there,
the growing dark centers
of each of your terrible eyes,
I find myself watching my face
in the spots of dead mirrors.
-
And the holes do not know
what is coming, but are ready,
they have been since
the black hand of the universe
pushed dust together to make
evolution.
-
And I’ve always known you’re on
your way, yet in the final moments
before your hands burst to water turned
flesh, in that infant second
when your bones are the mass
of the earth
-
I have nowhere to go but deep
into the eye, the clear circle where
even this violence is lighter than air.
